


Deal with the Devil

by Katef



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-10 07:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14732180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef
Summary: The boys get the chance to right an old wrong as Blair learns to grow into his true role as shaman guide to his sentinel.





	1. Prompt - AU: historical

**Author's Note:**

> This is the nearest I shall ever get to a ‘death story’, although I refuse to recognise it as such. Suffice it to say, as always ‘our’ Jim and Blair remain (relatively) safe in my hands, so never fear!
> 
> K x

**Chapter 1: Prompt – AU historical:**   


**Washington State, circa 1869:**  


Sheriff Joe Ellis peered carefully around the rocky entrance to the cave in which he and his companion were holed up, his exceptional vision picking out the tiny movements and variations in the shadows of the surrounding outcrops that told him the number and placement of the remaining gang members who had ambushed them. A muffled moan behind him immediately drew his attention, and he looked back at the man lying behind him, stretched out on the cave’s dirt floor. 

“Hey, buddy, you OK?” Joe’s enquiry was gentle and worried. His deputy and lifelong friend and partner Jake Sanders was anything but, and he knew it only too well, as did the injured man. The younger man’s sweat-slick face was pasty-white with shock, pain and blood loss, and both Joe and Jake knew he didn’t have long, bleeding out slowly from the bullet wound in his leg despite the tourniquet Joe had placed around it. However, Jake’s small smile was serene as he replied, his voice still rich and soothing even with the hoarseness of dehydration. 

“I’m fine, big fella, don’t worry so much! Just get those thieving bastards for me, OK? They’ve killed enough innocent people between them, and you know that only you can stop them.” 

Joe smiled back grimly. “Yeah, I guess that’s true, buddy. One last victory for the good guys, huh?” 

“Yeah, that’s right. And then we can go.” And Jake’s eyes closed again briefly as he breathed through another jolt of pain. He was ready. More than ready, but he wasn’t afraid. He knew there was nothing to be afraid of. 

Joe reached back and squeezed his hand, sorrow and resignation in his cool blue eyes. “Hold on just a bit longer for me, OK? I think they’re getting ready to move. And once they do, they’ll wish they’d never been born!” he added harshly. 

With that, he turned his attention back to the matter in hand, checking out the remaining ammunition for his and Jake’s revolvers. Only six bullets left, but it would suffice. Joe was unflappable, and gifted with eagle-eyed accuracy even with a six-gun, as Drago Quinn and his cronies would soon find out. 

As he waited patiently, Joe allowed his thoughts to roam even as he concentrated on his vigil. It had been a good life all in all, but only because of the gift of the man at his back, and he knew it and thanked whatever deity had led Jake to him from the bottom of his heart.  


\---------------------------------  


From an early age, Joe had realised that he possessed exceptional sensitivity, and knew that his widowed father was deeply concerned for him. A wealthy and successful businessman in the rapidly developing and expanding New York State, he had tried to convince the boy to hide his dubious ‘gift’ in case he was seen by their neighbours as some sort of crazy person or even a demonically-touched soul in the eyes of their more evangelical acquaintances. However, in spite of his father’s urging and even outright threats, Joe had met up with a sympathetic and understanding friend in the younger Jake Sanders, and despite their very different social status and backgrounds, the boys had become firm friends. They had remained together through thick and thin through boyhood and adolescence, defying any criticism in favour of maintaining their partnership. Because only Jake had the innate, instinctive knowledge and physical presence by which Joe could control his hypersensitivity, and they both recognised it, even if they didn’t fully understand how it worked. 

At the outbreak of the Civil War, Joe had eschewed the constricting safety of his father’s business in favour of signing up for the Union army; driven to ‘do the right thing’; and of course, Jake had followed suit. They had campaigned together, and even survived the dreadful privations of capture and internment at the notorious Andersonville prison camp – just. And once the war was over, sickened by the slaughter and devastation they had witnessed, both men had travelled west, seeking a new life away from the hyperbole, the bloodshed and battlefields. 

They had travelled to Seattle, and from thence to the small but growing community of Cascade, and it was there where they decided to put down their roots. Admired for his integrity and honourable military reputation as well as for his unquestionable ability, Joe was soon elected as Sheriff, and of course, Jake became his deputy. The inseparable pair settled in well, carefully avoiding providing their townspeople with any evidence for unseemly behaviour, and all was well for a couple of years until the bloodthirsty and murdering gang of bank robbers led by the notorious Drago Quinn moved into their area. 

It was after the gang had hit Cascade’s biggest bank that Sheriff Joe and his deputy Jake had called together a posse to chase the gang into the wild country outside Cascade where Joe figured their hideout must be. 

Unfortunately for Joe and Jake, the belligerence of the posse members had soon evaporated as the terrain had worsened, and they had turned tail and run, leaving the pair of lawmen alone to tackle Quinn and his gang of ruffians. 

It was then that the gang had made the most of their advantage and had ambushed them in a small canyon, Jake taking a bullet in the leg before Joe could locate a sheltering cave in which to hide. It was soon clear to both men that the wound would prove to be fatal without immediate treatment, but Jake remained stoic. He believed in destiny, and, having come into contact with several wise men and shamans in the indigenous tribes they had encountered during their travels, he knew very well that there was nothing to fear. And he knew now that Joe accepted his beliefs also, and that was of great comfort to them both. 

It was that shared belief that bolstered Joe as he waited for the right opportunity to end this confrontation, and sure enough, before long he had his chance.  


\-------------------------------  


Carefully husbanding his small stock of ammunition, Joe focussed on a movement to his left. Almost inevitably, an unsuspecting head poked up above the rocky parapet behind which the robber was hiding, and that was enough. Once shot rang out, and the robber dropped from sight, dead before he hit the ground. The reaction was instantaneous and predictable as his infuriated cronies opened fire, only to be felled one by one as the imperturbable Joe picked them off until finally he knew that only Drago himself survived. With one bullet remaining, Joe waited until the almost maniacally incandescent gang leader called out to him in fury. 

“Give it up, Sheriff! You know you’re outnumbered! If you throw down your guns, I’ll let you and your little bum-boy go free. What do you say?” 

Grinning savagely, Joe called out, “I don’t think so, Quinn! I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you!” and it was then that he used his final ploy. Raising Jake’s empty revolver, he pretended to take aim and fire, only to have the hammer click on an empty chamber. He repeated the action two or three times for effect, and when the smugly-grinning Drago stood up, intending to take his time in taking out the upstart lawman, Joe picked up his own revolver and shot the bad guy between the eyes with his final bullet. It was justice, western style. 

With the danger removed, Joe moved quickly back to Jake’s side, cupping the pale, whiskered cheeks in his warm hands. 

“You still with me, Chief?” he murmured urgently, although his sense of hearing could still pick up the labouring heartbeats. 

“Yeah, man. Well done, Sheriff! I’m so proud of you!” came the struggling reply. 

“Proud of _us_ , you mean, kid!” Joe answered, his voice thick with unshed tears. “We’re a team after all. Two halves of one whole, that’s what the shaman said!” 

“Don’t fret so, Joe,” Jake whispered, his voice fading but still commanding. “We both know that this isn’t the end. I’m not afraid, and you shouldn’t be either. But I’d like for you to hold me, if you would.” 

“No problem, my life. My love.” And Joe took the smaller body into his arms, cradling his companion with the utmost care and compassion until he heard the beloved heartbeat stop.   


\---------------------------------  


Two days later, the townspeople sent out another group to trace their missing lawmen, and those that set out reported the following. All the gang members were accounted for, and their bodies carried back to town for formal identification and disposal. The gang’s stash of booty was also recovered from the same cave in which several items of blood-stained clothing were found, which were identified as belonging to Joe Ellis and Jake Sanders. 

But no other bodies were ever discovered, and their fate and ultimate location remained a mystery ever after. 

Decades later, as Cascade grew into a thriving city; legends such as that concerning the fate of Joe and Jake were lost and unheeded except by the few dedicated local historians who maintained the city’s museums and archives. But they were still there, painstakingly written down by long-dead hands, for those who cared to look.  



	2. Prompt - The Girl Next Door

**Chapter 2: Prompt – The Girl Next Door:**  


**Fast Forward to 1997: The loft:**  


Blair sat on the sofa, his laptop on his knees and the coffee table in front of him strewn with blue books requiring marking. He stared disconsolately at the screen before him, knowing that it was pointless. No way was he going to be able to concentrate on the article he was supposed to be writing for ‘Anthropology Today’ magazine, and he was even less interested in working on his diss. True, the marking was just a basic pop quiz which didn’t require much effort, so he would be able to achieve that at least, but that didn’t cheer him any. He knew he was depressed, and getting more so every passing day, and he also had a fair idea why it was so, but doing something about it seemed to be beyond him for the time being. 

Basically, he was having a crisis of confidence far greater than any he had suffered from before, which was saying something. Oh, he knew only too well that intellectually he could hold his own in almost any company, but when it came to social interactions and physical ability, he knew he was found wanting only too often. The trouble was that, despite being able to walk the walk and talk the talk, he was sadly lacking in self-confidence, so that although the outside world might see the mouthy, bouncy uber-smart façade, it hid a core that was easily wounded and an ego that could be punctured with ease at the simplest of barbed words. Particularly the barbed words that his study subject and best friend Jim threw at him only too often, apparently completely oblivious to the devastating effects they had on his roommate. 

And worst of all was that his considerable acting ability had begun to let him down lately, so that he wasn’t even able to fully disguise his growing sadness and feeling of displacement, such that Jim had begun to give him puzzled looks on occasion which Blair guessed that he wasn’t meant to see, but was aware of anyway. But of course, Jim being Jim was hardly going to sit him down and try to actually discuss what was wrong. It wasn’t in the big cop’s nature, and why would he, after all? He was getting better and better at controlling the senses now, so it looked like Blair’s work might well be done, and for the life of him, he didn’t know how to live without his hero and best friend, and the incredible, adrenalin-rush of a rollercoaster ride he’d enjoyed since riding with the detective. Well, for most of the time, anyway. 

Then again, perhaps it was gone time to get out of Jim’s life. Blair figured that this last episode should have given him enough of a clue that he was a waste of loft space. Once again he had made an utter fool of himself; trying to help the girl next door; blinded by Iris’ attractiveness and his own good nature so that he was easily duped into getting involved in her drug smuggling escapade like the worst kind of patsy. Hell, this time he could have actually served jail time, and that was a frightening thought indeed. He’d only escaped because Iris was either too concerned about taking her erstwhile cronies down with her than to be bothered with implicating Blair, or more likely Jim had used his own intimidating influence to get her to cooperate. Who knew? Jim hadn’t bothered to enlighten him either way, so he had just sighed with relief and gratitude that he had escaped relatively unscathed despite being literally terrified for his life on several occasions, even if he had had to suffer the indignity of being booked. 

Saving the unfinished article and closing down his laptop, he set it to one side with a sigh. He should at least get on with the marking, as it was his turn to cook tonight, and he had promised Jim homemade lasagne as an extra ‘thank you’ for pulling his ass out of the fire yet again. But he felt a frightening lack of enthusiasm for either project, so decided that he might as well sit for a while longer in an attempt to find his centre and get his head straight before Jim came home and started with the quizzical looks again. 

He could but try, anyway. 

Rubbing unconsciously at the scar in his thigh where Rooker’s bullet had hit him, he tried to recall the last time he had actually felt as if he had been of real use to Jim. It certainly hadn’t been during their attempt to track down Dawson Quinn after the criminal mastermind had escaped from custody, taking Simon with him as a hostage in order to retrieve his hidden stash of stolen loot. Blair had insisted on tagging along with Jim, wanting to play his part in rescuing Simon, but in his own opinion he had ended up by being a handicap rather than help. Hell, he had gotten himself banged up jumping from that cliff into the river, and then managed to get captured by survivalists. It was by pure chance that he had been able to escape from them when the two men had fought between themselves, but even after meeting up with Jim again, all he had had managed to do was to get himself shot. And then had to be carried out on a stretcher dangling from a chopper, screaming like a banshee in terror. And for the goddess’ sake, how sad was that? He was certain that Simon and Jim must have had a real laugh at that, and had no doubt shared the joke with the rest of the bullpen gang. 

In truth, there had been one occasion where he had had a glimmer of hope that he was actually of use to Jim, and that was when he had talked Jim through retrieving his senses after Incacha died so tragically here in the loft. 

Although reluctant, Jim had allowed himself to be persuaded to take on the mantle of Sentinel of the Great City again for Incacha’s sake, but Blair’s own satisfaction had soon been dampened. The thrill he had felt despite his very real sympathy when the dying Chopec had passed the ‘Way of the Shaman’ to him had been thoroughly dispelled by Jim when the sentinel had dismissed the notion out of hand, declaring that it was stupid, and that he should never have translated Incacha’s words. His total disdain at Blair’s half-hearted joke at being the ‘Shaman of the Great City’ had deflated the younger man completely, and the death of his own friend Janet had driven any thought of pursuing the idea from his head. Certainly he had plenty of theoretical knowledge about shamanism, as it came with the turf as a practising anthropologist, but he had never again considered himself as worthy of that role, and that was perhaps both his and Jim’s biggest mistake. 

Sighing deeply, he ran a hand through his wild curls and scolded himself firmly for his pity party. He was getting nowhere with that train of thought, so he forced himself instead to pick up and open the first blue book. The simple action stimulated a reluctant determination to complete that task at least, and he took up his red pen in readiness, pushing his spectacles firmly up his nose. 

And as he did so, he also decided that from tonight he was going to start meditating again. He had let the habit slide in recent months, and it was past time to begin again. Naomi would be shocked at his negligence and lax attitude, and would undoubtedly start the old sage-burning routine if she knew. The thought brought a reluctant grin to his face, and with at least that one decision made, he felt a little better. Naomi had taught him that all things happen for a reason, and he would do well to remember that.  


\------------------------------  


**Meanwhile, in Simon Banks’ office:**  


Simon studied the man prowling around his office like some large, predatory cat, a worried frown on his face. Jim looked on edge, wound up as tight as a spring and ready to explode into action at any second. Concerned for his friend as much as for a valued subordinate, Simon knew he was going to have to get to the bottom of Jim’s disquiet, but that probably wouldn’t be an easy task knowing the man’s ingrained reluctance to seek outside advice, even from a friend. Nevertheless, it had to be done, so Simon bit the bullet and began. 

“Come on, Jim, sit down. You’re making my neck ache watching you prowling around. If there’s something you need to discuss, let’s do it in comfort, OK?” 

Jim stopped in his tracks, almost as if coming back to himself from somewhere deep inside his head, and wherever that place was, it had to be pretty darned spooky, judging by the strain and confusion on the man’s handsome features. 

“Uh, sorry, Simon. I just have something on my mind, and it’s driving me nuts. The trouble is, I can’t decide what to do about it, or even if there’s anything I _can_ do. And you don’t have to tell me that it’s affecting my job. I realise that, and it scares the heck out of me even if I hate to admit it.” 

Simon’s frown deepened at Jim’s words. His taciturn friend had revealed more about his emotional frame of mind in those few words than he had ever done before in Simon’s presence, and that in itself was cause for concern. Even with Sandburg’s beneficial influence on him, Jim was still a self-contained loner at heart, an admitted control freak who hated to rely on anything or anybody but himself. And perhaps that was the problem. He had begun to rely on the quirky grad student after all, and was having difficulty coming to terms with that fact. It was a theory, anyhow, and Simon decided to test it out. 

“So, Jim, does this minor meltdown have anything to do with Sandburg, by any chance? What I mean is that, although I truly appreciate everything he’s done for us – for _you_ in particular – is it time to cut him loose after all? Don’t get me wrong. I owe that boy for helping save my bacon more than once, and Daryl’s too, and even if I don’t say it often enough, he’s been of great help in a number of cases over and above backing you up when you’re using the senses. And hell, you’re a much nicer person now than pre-Sandburg, I gotta admit. But surely he must be close to finishing that paper by now. And he has a life at the U that he must want to return to. 

“And even more importantly, he’s starting to look a bit ragged around the edges too. Perhaps we’re expecting too much of him, because even energiser bunnies run down eventually.” 

Jim stared at his captain for long moments, completely dumbfounded. Simon had just about covered everything that had been on his mind, although it was only the tip of the iceberg as far as a remedy was concerned. Finally, he opened his mouth to reply, hoping that he could get his point across without sounding too self-pitying. Or pitiful. 

“Guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks, huh? You’re right in many respects, sir, and I accept most of what you’re saying. Sandburg – _Blair’s_ – done more for me than I can possibly say, but I’m finding it so hard to admit it. He’s always there for me even when I don’t expect him to be, and look what he’s suffered while he’s been riding with me. He’s been beaten, kidnapped, hell, even shot and just now threatened with unjustifiable imprisonment and what do I do? Do I thank him? No, sir! I just toss him the occasional bone and he still comes back for more. 

“And yes, I _do_ still need him for the senses, even though they’re much easier to control now. Again, because of him and his on-going support and guidance. How he keeps coming up with inspiration apparently out of thin air never ceases to amaze me, but he keeps on doing it. 

“But I’ve been totally blind, Simon, where he and his welfare is concerned. I don’t mean pulling his ass out of the fire; which he does for me almost as often, truth be told; but I’ve never really taken the time to really consider him as a person. Just for what he can do for me, and it’s not right. I can’t remember when, or even if, I’ve ever shown any interest in his work at the U. Just written it off as unimportant unless it helps me and the senses. Not a ‘proper job’, so to speak. 

“But perhaps the very worst thing I realise that I’ve done is to undermine his self-confidence so drastically that I think he’s truly suffering.” 

“Sandburg, lacking confidence? Are you sure, Jim?” Simon interjected with no little incredulity. 

Jim grinned ruefully as he replied, “Oh yes, Simon. I’m sure! You have to have seen through that act of his by now, surely! Especially lately, since he doesn’t seem to have the energy to keep it up. He used to be able to tap-dance like a pro when it came to getting his own way, or getting round us whenever he wanted. But underneath that Oscar – winning performance, he actually has a very low opinion of himself. And I know that not so long ago I made the situation so much worse!” 

“OK, I’ll buy what you’re saying, Jim. I never really considered Sandburg in that light before, because more often than not he’s irritated the shit out of me. But now you mention it, I can see what you mean. But how could you have made it worse?” 

Jim sat back in his seat, rubbing his face tiredly with his hands before answering candidly. “This probably comes into the realm of the ‘sentinel voodoo shit’ you’d prefer not to know about, sir. So are you sure you want to hear this?” 

To which Simon replied honestly, “You’re probably right there, Jim, but tell me anyway. It’s plainly weighing on your mind, so get it off your chest. And if that’s mixing my metaphors or whatever, tough!” 

“OK, then. Here goes!” responded Jim with a wry grin, and he proceeded to tell Simon about the scene in the loft as Incacha lay dying. He held nothing back, admitting that he had shut Blair down so completely and dismissively over the whole ‘shaman’ deal that his young partner had capitulated immediately in favour of helping his sentinel in dealing with the case in hand, and Jim had thought the unfortunate episode was over and done with. But in hindsight he realised how selfish his attitude had been. Just because he had always been uncomfortable with the whole spiritual side to the sentinel business, he had tried to ignore its significance for Blair as his companion. And by denying any possibility of believing in his partner’s potential, he had unwittingly hurt the young man deeply, undermining his confidence a little more each day. Uncomfortable as it would undoubtedly be, the honourable man in him, and the good friend he wished to be insisted that he swallow his pride and dislike of the subject and actually talk to Blair. To put the young grad student first for once instead of always assuming it was all about Jim and the senses. 

As he wound down, exhausted by the emotional bloodletting, he waited somewhat anxiously for his old friend and captain’s opinion. He fully expected a certain amount of criticism, which would be entirely warranted, but he also hoped for some good advice and support as to how to begin to put things right between him and someone who had become dearer to him than he could ever have dreamed possible. 

Simon removed his spectacles and began to clean them to give himself a moment to marshal his thoughts. Although he had braced himself to hear some disturbing and even possibly esoteric stuff, what Jim had described was way more ‘out there’ than he could have expected. But it was up to him to put aside his own cynicism and at least try to offer his hurting friend some support, and by extension, Sandburg also. 

“Well, hell, Jim, you certainly weren’t kidding were you? But even if I can’t believe in this shaman shit, I can well understand that Blair would. And by the sound of it, perhaps you should too. It’s right up his anthropological street after all, isn’t it? And it’s also true that you can be pretty harsh in your treatment of him, even if you don’t realise it at the time. That boy’s still got a huge dose of hero worship going on about you, and now you’ve told me about his lack of self-confidence, I can better understand why he looks so devastated when you bawl him out. 

“So, this is what I suggest. You have plenty of leave due, and at the moment it’s surprisingly quiet as far as new cases go. So, get your desk cleared by tomorrow, then take Friday and Monday off to make a long weekend. And even if you have to kidnap him yourself, take Blair somewhere with you – camping, fishing, whatever – and _talk_ to the kid! Get whatever is troubling you both out in the open and fix it! Because whatever I said before about cutting him loose, I still like having the PD’s best investigative team in my unit, and I’d like to keep it that way for a bit longer.” 

Jim nodded thoughtfully, then offered his friend a warm smile of appreciation. “Thanks, Simon. I’ll take you up on your suggestion, and if it doesn’t work out, then I’ll only have myself to blame.” 

So saying, he rose to his feet and exited the office, a great deal happier and more hopeful than when he entered it. He had been presented with the opportunity to make things right with his friend and – what was it Brackett had called him? – _guide,_ yes, that was it. And he promised himself that he was going to do his level best to do just that.  



	3. Prompt - Stormy night

**Chapter 3: Prompt – Stormy night:**   


**Friday morning, on the way to Cascade National Forest:**  


“Oh, man! This is so cool, Jim! I can’t believe Simon just gave you the whole weekend like this. And I truly appreciate you asking me to come along with you. It seems an age since we had time for fishing and just relaxing, man. You really deserve some proper down-time, Jim, away from the stress and pollutants in the city. Your senses are going to thank you for it.” 

Jim cast a sideways glance at his partner, pleased to see a slight return of Blair’s customary high spirits. There was even the suggestion of a bounce in his movements as he turned this way and that in the passenger seat in order to take in as much of the passing scenery as possible. 

While it was true that Blair had been much perkier ever since Jim had broached the subject of a weekend away together a couple of nights ago, now he knew what to look for, Jim could tell that his partner’s reaction was still a little too muted for his satisfaction. 

And of course, he was also able to recognise the significance of Blair’s innocent words; something that certainly gave him pause for thought even as his lips lifted a little in a wry grin. As always, Blair was more concerned about Jim’s health and well-being than his own, and Jim felt a pang of shame that he’d never made the effort to notice it before. Then again, in his own defence, it had never occurred to him that he could be worthy of such adulation, and it had taken Simon’s observations to make him realise how Blair saw him. But being the object of his roommate’s hero worship was uncomfortable to say the least, so he tried to put the thought aside for the present. 

“Shouldn’t be long now, Chief,” he replied, neatly side-stepping the subject of his own health issues. “I’d completely forgotten about this site, and I’m glad it’s still operating. I wanted to find something different from our usual fishing spots and hiking grounds, and also somewhere closer to town so we don’t have to waste hours travelling. But I don’t think you’ll be disappointed, Chief. If it’s anything like I recall, it’ll be far more unspoilt than even the National Forest proper can claim to be.” 

His interest piqued, Blair swung back to face him, his eyes alive with questions. “How so, Jim? I mean, I know you’ve never told me about it before, so what’s so special this time?” 

“Well, to be honest, I’m not sure why I never thought of it before,” Jim replied thoughtfully. “I wanted to surprise you, because I thought you might need a bit of down-time yourself after the ‘Iris’ fiasco. Which we _won’t_ mention again for the next few days, OK? But it suddenly occurred to me that it’s the sort of place that would particularly appeal to you. And I think your anthropologist’s interest should be well and truly satisfied. The actual camp is very much off the beaten track, and only really sought out by those in the know who are truly looking for somewhere as close to real wilderness as possible. See, it’s just inside the Reservation lands, so has never been subject to exploitation by loggers and such. What trees there are, are old growth, and there’s been no need to re-plant and replace. And what farming has been carried out has always been minimal and subsistence only. I was taken there on a High School trip way back when, and I remember the peace and quiet even now. And what’s even better, there’re a few basic log cabins, so if we’re lucky we can score one of them and won’t have to rely on the tent.” 

While he was talking, Blair’s expression had become increasingly animated, his mobile features reflecting excitement and happy anticipation, and Jim gave himself a small mental pat on the back. Perhaps this trip might provide the right atmosphere and location in which they could work things out between them after all. He could but hope. 

In less than another hours’ driving, Jim turned on to a dirt road marked by an almost illegible hand-painted signpost. Arriving at a wire boundary fence entered by a wide, metal gate behind a cattle grid, he pulled up and waited while Blair jumped out to open it, carefully closing it again once the truck had passed through. Blair’s grin widened even more as he looked around him, admiring the view; in his mind’s eye envisioning himself as one of the first white men to see it in all its unspoilt glory. He was so grateful that the almost pristine landscape had remained largely unscathed by possibly thousands of years of occupation by indigenous tribespeople who would have been semi-nomadic hunter gatherers for most of that time, and therefore generally non-intrusive, and he felt truly privileged to be able to enjoy it. Climbing back into the truck, he couldn’t rein in his enthusiasm, grateful that for once Jim didn’t seem about to shut him down. 

“Oh, man, this looks great! I had no idea that there was anywhere like this open to hikers and such so close to Cascade. I thought that all the local tribes hereabouts kept themselves very much to themselves and guarded their remaining lands jealously from the white man’s attempts at exploitation, with good cause!.” 

“For the most part, I think they do,” Jim replied. “It’s just that a few of the more enterprising individuals thought that there was money to be made by opening certain areas to limited numbers of visitors. But only for hiking and some fishing, not hunting. And so far it seems to be working, although who knows? Somewhere down the line greed may well creep in, and the site’ll go the way of most so-called ‘authentic native settlements’.” 

Blair’s face fell for a moment as his fertile imagination furnished him with an image of _faux_ Disneyesque tepees and tacky ‘Trading Posts’, populated by Hollywood-style ‘Indian braves’ and Medicine Men. Shaking his head sadly he murmured, “Goddess, I hope not! But I think you’re probably right. Commercialism would be the death of this!” and he waved his arm to encompass their surroundings. Then his face brightened again as he added, “Anyway, in the meantime, I’m going to enjoy it as it is!” 

A couple of miles further on, they saw the camp site up ahead, and very rustic it was too. But that was all to the good as far as the two men were concerned. Neither man particularly relished the notion of having all mod cons. They were here to enjoy the wilderness and what it had to offer, not lounge in luxury. 

Approaching a solidly-built but shabby building that seemed to double as both office and basic general store, Jim pulled up and climbed down from the truck. He was greeted by a tall, copper-skinned Native American of indeterminate age, who smiled serenely at them both, his pleasant-featured, weathered face creased by deep lines and wrinkles. Long, straight black hair flecked with grey was pulled back in a ponytail, and he was dressed in jeans and flannel shirt, with moccasins on his feet and wearing more bead necklaces and bracelets than did Blair. All in all he was an impressive figure, and one who Blair instinctively recognised as a good and wise person. 

“Welcome,” he said, including them both in his shrewd, dark-eyed gaze. “I am Joe Running Horse and I mind the office here. You’ll be glad to know that you’re the only ones here right now, so you can take your pick of the cabins. Or put your tent up if you prefer. There’s no running water, but the lake and the river are clean, and well stocked with fish at this time of year. If it’s peace you want, you’ll find it here. But the young shaman might find something else more important,” he added enigmatically, fixing Blair with a knowing gaze. 

However, before a bemused Blair could come up with a suitable response, he turned away and beckoned to a youth who had just emerged from around the back of the store. 

“White Buffalo will help you with your gear if you need it, and you can find me here most of the time. We have no telephones here, but there is a radio in case of emergencies. If you want to take the canoe out, there’s an honesty box beside the mooring post. 

“Enjoy your stay, guys,” and with that he strolled back to the store-cum-office on silent feet, humming quietly to himself and looking as laid-back and untroubled a soul as Blair or Jim had ever seen. 

Shaking himself out of his mild bewilderment, Blair climbed down from the truck and joined Jim as the youth halted in front of them and grinned at them both, his expression open and amiable. “You need any help, folks?” he asked, nodding affably when they declined politely. “No problem, guys. But if you do need anything, me and my folks live just over yonder in the farmstead. Will you be needing a guide at all, because I can do that too if you want.” 

“No, thanks all the same, White Buffalo,” Jim replied with a smile. “I have a good sense of direction, even if Blair here doesn’t, so we shouldn’t get lost.” 

“Army Ranger,” Blair added with a cheeky grin, cocking a thumb at the bigger man, and chuckling along with White Buffalo at Jim’s eye-rolling mock-exasperation. 

“Fair enough guys. See you around,” the young man laughed, and with a wave, he turned away and also headed back to the store, leaving two smiling men behind him. 

“I think this is going to be great, Jim,” Blair said happily, and if he was having any thoughts about Joe Running Horse’s odd comment, he wasn’t about to dwell on them here and now. 

They chose the cabin furthest away from the office, and nearest to the small lake, pleased to find that it was more than sufficient for their needs. Basic for sure, but it was clean and dry, and furnished with a pot-bellied stove, a table and two chairs, and two cots covered in bright native-made blankets. An earth closet outside took care of that necessity, and an old-fashioned wash stand and bowl on the outside deck could be filled with lake water for their ablutions. There was a fire pit and BBQ grill out the back, and that was pretty much it. 

After unloading the supplies they had brought with them, they decided to spend the remainder of the afternoon fishing, but without using the canoe this time. They both needed to relax and simply chill out, and the weather was pleasant enough at the moment for them to be able to do so. 

However, Jim was certain that there was a storm front approaching, so they didn’t want to be caught out at any distance from the hut. And Blair was more than glad that they wouldn’t be under canvas that night. Having your own personal weather forecaster was indeed a bonus as far as he was concerned, and yet another reason why indigenous tribes treasured and respected their sentinels.  


\-------------------------------------  


**Later that night:**  


Jim awoke to the crash of thunder overhead, accompanied by flashes of lightning as the expected storm passed overhead. But he realised that it wasn’t that that had woken him, but rather the sounds coming from the opposite cot where Blair murmured and thrashed around, apparently in the grip of a nightmare. Frowning, his threw off his blankets and crossed the room to crouch down beside the low bed, intending to shake his friend awake. However, before he could do so, Blair’s eyes popped open to stare wildly around him, the fear and confusion on his face clear to sentinel vision even before the cabin was lit up once again by a bright flash of light. 

“What? Wh…where? Where am I?” the younger man stuttered, apparently momentarily disorientated. “Jim? Are you OK?” he continued, reaching out a shaky hand to grip Jim’s arm. 

“Whoa, Chief. It’s OK, buddy. You were having a nightmare or something, so I just wanted to check on you. Are _you_ OK? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” 

Rubbing a hand over his sweaty face, Blair muttered, “Huh! You could be right, man! That was… _weird!”_ Then he looked up again, blushing sheepishly as he offered Jim a shy grin. 

“I’m sorry I woke you, man. I’m all right, really. Go back to bed, Jim, before you get cold.” 

It was true that the temperature had dropped significantly, but Jim disregarded it for a while longer, unwilling to leave Blair’s side until he was sure his friend really was able to relax again. 

“I’m fine, Chief, don’t worry about me. It’s not me who feels the cold!” he chuckled, pleased when Blair grinned back. 

“I guess not, Big Guy,” he replied, casting an appreciative glance over Jim’s bare torso. Although Jim had swapped his customary boxers for sleep pants on this occasion, he was still wearing considerably less than Blair’s own sweats and thick socks. 

“But seriously, Jim, I’ll be OK now. It was just a dream is all. Probably brought on by that racket outside,” he added wryly, glancing upwards as another peal of thunder crashed overhead. 

“OK, then, kiddo. If you say so,” Jim replied reluctantly. “But if you want to talk about it, I’m here, OK?” And with that he returned to his bunk and climbed in, pulling the blankets up around him although he had no intention of sleeping until he knew that Blair had drifted off again. 

Blair settled down again, snuggling down under the blankets as he drew on his meditation techniques in order to calm himself and find his centre. He had no intention of actually sleeping just yet, wanting to spend a few minutes contemplating the strange, disjointed dream he had just had, but he wanted to reassure Jim that he was really all right. After a few minutes, his heart rate and breathing were steady again, and he felt able to turn his attention to the dream. Settling himself into a light trance, he opened his mind. 

He had always had an uncanny ability to remember his dreams fairly accurately, but this time he was sure that vital parts of it eluded him. However, what he could recall was disturbing, but in a vague, insubstantial way. It seemed to him that he was outside his own body, looking down at himself in a barely recognisable form, and he felt that the ‘other he’ was in grave danger. He saw a disembodied face that leered at him which seemed to be familiar, and yet not. Like that of Dawson Quinn, but subtly different. He also realised that he was in some sort of cave, and behind him he knew that his partner – Jim, or not-Jim? – was fighting for their survival. In his peripheral vision, he saw a large, silver timber wolf prowling around, teeth bared and growling aggressively as he watched as from behind an invisible boundary, and accompanied by a large, black jaguar – Jim’s spirit animal? – which looked equally infuriated at their inability to intervene. 

Suddenly he gasped in shock as the face swooped down towards his dream-self before exploding into a million glass-like shards and he was falling, falling into a spiral of welcoming darkness. 

His eyes flew open again, and he quickly glanced over at Jim’s bunk, relieved to see that the older man seemed to be sound asleep. Sighing, he settled down to sleep again, banishing all further thoughts of meditation for the time being. But he knew he would be trying again very soon, because deep down he was certain that the dream was important to both he and Jim, and he had no intention of ignoring it.  


\----------------------------------  


The following morning, Jim rose bright and early and left the hut to make use of the outhouse and fetch a bowl of cold, clear lake water in which to wash. Feeling alert and refreshed, he set up the small camp stove they had brought with them, and set about brewing some coffee, knowing that his partner would be in dire need of a large dose of the nectar of the gods before he would be fit to function for the rest of the day. Jim was certain that the younger man would be pretty ragged after such a disturbed night, but he wanted to go hiking after breakfast to enjoy the scenery which was even fresher and rain-wash bright after last night’s storm. He knew that Blair would appreciate it once he was up and running, and he smiled to himself as he prepared the makings of scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast. He couldn’t help but grin at the beard-stubbled and tousled apparition that stumbled out of the hut a few minutes later, surprised at the sudden surge of affection he felt towards his sleepy partner. 

“Coffee. Need coffee!” the apparition grumbled as he made a bee-line for the pot on the stove. 

Laughing delightedly, Jim handed him a mug, shaking his head fondly as Blair took his first few sips. As if by magic, the blue eyes opened fully, clearing by the second as the waking process continued until Blair was finally able to offer Jim a warm smile. 

“Thanks, Jim, I needed that! I’m sorry I woke you last night. I hope you got a decent amount of sleep anyway?” 

“More than you, buddy, I’m sure,” Jim replied with a grin. “But if you’re feeling up to it, I was thinking that we could go hiking after breakfast. There’s a canyon over the other side of the lake I’d like to see.” _And how the hell did I know that?_ he thought immediately, suddenly feeling distinctly uneasy. However, before Blair could remark on it, he thought, _Maybe I recall it from my school trip. Yeah, that’s probably it!_ And reassured, he grinned over at Blair again, glad to see no trace of suspicion on the young man’s face as he continued to virtually inhale his coffee.   


\-----------------------------  


Some time later, with breakfast over and Blair very close to his bouncy self again, the pair set out for their hike. The air felt fresh and clean as they walked, and Jim closed his eyes in bliss as his senses savoured the freedom from pollution and city noises. He knew Blair was watching him carefully, and cracked open one eye to sneak a peek at the expression on his friend’s face. He felt a glow of warmth at what he saw there. Blair’s emotions were clear to see on his attractive features and in his wide blue eyes. Wonder, admiration and joy were tinged with fond concern, the whole complemented by what Jim could only describe as love. _Well, what do you know? Simon was right. It is hero-worship, and then some. I should have known - should have seen it sooner – that he loves me. But is it in a brotherly way? Or something else? Something deeper than just for a partner? It’s certainly more than I’d expect for just his study subject, and I need to find out, but how? And if it is what I think it is, can I reciprocate?_

That last thought surprised him enough for his eyes to pop open as he fought to keep his own expression bland and untroubled. Grinning down into Blair’s now quizzical gaze he said briskly, “Come on then, Chief! Time’s a’wastin’ and I’d like to get back in time to do a bit more fishing. A fresh trout dinner sounds great to me!” 

“Me too, Jim,” Blair chuckled, and they set off again, setting a comfortable pace as they chatted amicably, every so often Jim describing in detail what he could sense, knowing that Blair was hanging on his every word. And how good did _that_ feel! No one had ever cared for him, or about him, like Blair did, and it was only a shame that it had taken Jim so long to realise it. 

An hour or so of steady walking brought them around the head of the small lake, and the landscape became rockier as they approached the canyon Jim wanted to explore. Although the sun was warm, Blair suddenly shivered as if a chill wind had sprung up, and Jim glanced at him in puzzlement. 

“You OK, Chief? Anything wrong?” 

“Uh, no, Jim, I don’t think so,” Blair replied a little uncertainly. “Just that cold wind took me by surprise is all. It’s better now the sun’s out again.” 

“Cold wind? What cold wind?” Now Jim’s curiosity was truly aroused, especially as he hadn’t felt anything of the sort. 

Blair stopped and stared at him for a moment. “You didn’t feel it? Man, that’s weird! I mean, if anyone was going to feel anything untoward, it’d be a sentinel! Perhaps it was just my imagination!” he snickered self-consciously, although whether he was trying to convince himself or Jim he wasn’t entirely certain. 

Regarding his companion a little strangely, but deciding not to pursue the topic, Jim nodded uncertainly, then continued to walk up the canyon floor. He knew Blair was following, although rather more slowly, and he was about to turn around and question the younger man further when he spotted the cave high up in the canyon side. Quickening his pace, he started to climb as soon as he reached an appropriate spot, all thoughts of imaginary cold winds and uneasy partners forgotten as he pushed his way upwards, knowing he had to reach it urgently even if he didn’t know why. 

As far as Blair was concerned, things were going from bad to worse. He truly didn’t want to either come over like a prize wuss, or spoil Jim’s apparent excitement at exploring the canyon, but he felt a growing sense of trepidation every step he took. It was almost as if there was something malevolent watching him as he plodded more and more reluctantly in Jim’s footsteps, and even as he scolded himself for his over-active imagination, he couldn’t shake off that feeling of dread that was every bit as bad as that which had awoken him during the night. It was almost as if that dream had been some sort of premonition, and he was far too open-minded a soul to deny that possibility. However, he could see that Jim had almost reached the cave’s entrance, so he gritted his teeth and started to climb, determined not to let Jim down. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Blair finally reached the cave, but for the life of him, couldn’t bring himself to enter. He could see Jim standing a little way inside, staring at a spot behind some fallen rocks in consternation, but found that he could barely find enough breath to speak. A sudden coldness that seemed to be bone-deep seized him, and he moaned in fear and agony as a bolt of pain shot through his thigh, radiating out from the spot where the scar from his bullet wound was. He was barely aware of Jim’s hurried approach, or of being scooped up into his sentinel’s powerful arms as everything went black and he passed out.  



	4. Prompt - Role reversal

**Chapter 4: Prompt – Role reversal:**  


**Shortly afterwards, at the lakeside:**  


“Oh, man! Where am I? What happened?” Blair groaned as he tried to sit up, only to find that he was wrapped in strong arms and partly lying against a very broad and sculpted chest. Jim’s chest, to be exact, and the feeling of comfort and security felt so good. 

“We’re back at the lakeside, Chief,” Jim’s voice rumbled in his ear. “When you passed out, I carried you back here in case I needed to get some water or something to wake you up.” 

Blushing hotly, Blair muttered, “Oh, man! I’m so sorry, Jim. I don’t usually do stuff like that; swooning like a damsel in distress. It’s so embarrassing!” 

“It’s OK, Chief. Just try not to do it again, huh? Scared the hell out of me, and you’re no lightweight either, even if you do look skinny. I can assure you that you didn’t feel like a swooning maiden, kiddo!” 

Blair could easily discern the real concern behind the teasing in his friend’s voice, and even though he felt guilty for causing Jim distress, he also welcomed the warm feeling of care and protection he was presently enjoying. However, he knew it couldn’t last, so he said, “Thanks, Jim. But I think I can get up now. Now we’re away from that place, I feel fine, honestly!” 

“Well, if you’re sure,” Jim replied, easing Blair up and away from him. “I don’t want to risk you collapsing like that again. I barely caught you in time before you fell back down the cliff. It mightn’t be very high, but those rocks could have done you a whole lot of damage.” 

As Blair slowly got to his feet, he pondered for a moment on the feeling of loss as Jim released him, realising that it had felt more than good. He wasn’t to know that Jim was experiencing the same feeling, although both of them were trying their best to remain nonchalant. 

“So, what made you react like that, Chief? Have you any idea?” Jim asked, a frown of concentration creasing his brow as he studied the smaller man carefully. As Blair had said, it wasn’t normal behaviour for him at all. Although the young man claimed to be a coward at heart, Jim knew he was anything but. He could always rely on Blair to deal with whatever danger and difficulty their work together threw at him. He might go into meltdown afterwards, but he had never failed to act with courage and ingenuity at the time. 

However, Jim felt an unexpected urge to hold his friend close when Blair’s face took on a faraway expression, his voice tiny as he intoned, “Death. It was death I felt, as soon as I tried to enter. I…I can’t explain it any better. It was like my dream. There was evil there, and it was coming for me. For us…” 

“What do you mean, ‘coming for us’? There’s no one within miles of us, Chief. No one!” 

“I don’t _know,_ Jim,” Blair replied, turning to face his sentinel again. His voice took on a plaintive quality as he tried to explain. “It was like us, but not us – in my dream, that is – but what that cave had to do with it, I don’t know! But I think I need to find out. For both our sakes!” 

Now Jim felt like shaking his friend in frustration, even though he knew it was his own fear and unease making him react like that. He wanted to say that Blair was being stupid. Over-reacting because he was taking this shaman thing seriously again following Running Horse’s unsolicited comment. But in all honesty, he knew that he had to try and control his urge to deny everything that had happened. He had promised Simon – and himself – that he would try and fix things with Blair, and if that meant backing up his guide for once over some sort of spiritual shit, he’d do it. 

Sighing deeply, he said, “OK, Chief. If you say so, that’s what we’ll do. But right now I’d like to go back to the camp. I think we both need to chill a bit – perhaps do a bit of fishing. But we’ll talk about this again, I promise.” 

Looking a little less worried, Blair offered him a small smile of gratitude. “Thanks, Jim. Sounds like a plan. Let’s go!” and they set off again for the cabin, retracing their steps in a much quieter and introspective frame of mind than when they had ventured out.  


\------------------------------------  


For the remainder of the afternoon they tried to regain their relaxed and happy mood with limited success. Although they both caught a decent sized trout apiece, enough for the eagerly anticipated dinner, they failed to recapture their previous enthusiasm even though Blair tried his best to put on a happy face. The trouble was that Jim wasn’t fooled in the least, even if he appreciated Blair’s efforts on his behalf, and by the time they were ready to turn in for the night the strain on both their faces was beginning to show. 

Nevertheless, they both settled down to sleep, hoping that the following day would bring about an improvement and a lifting of their spirits again. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be, as Jim was once again awakened by Blair’s moans and cries as he endured another nightmare. 

This time Jim reached out to his frightened partner, doing what he wanted to do without holding back. Pulling Blair into his arms, he cuddled the shaking body close until the smaller man’s panicked breaths steadied a little as he fought his way back to consciousness. 

“Easy, Chief, you’re OK,” Jim murmured against Blair’s sweaty and tousled curls. “That seemed like another doozy, kiddo. Do you want to tell me about it?” 

After a moment, he felt Blair nod against his chest, although the younger man made no attempt to pull away, much to Jim’s relief. “I…I think so, Jim, if you don’t mind,” Blair whispered, so quietly that Jim had to open his hearing to catch the nervous words. 

“OK, then, kiddo, but let’s get you up a bit so we can get more comfortable. I’d like to keep holding you though, if that’s OK with you?” 

“Oh, yes, Jim. More than OK. I really appreciate it right now,” Blair answered shyly, relieved that he hadn’t irritated the older man with his unwonted show of weakness. No doubt he’d feel like a total wuss in the morning, but right now he’d take all the comfort he could get. 

Once they had gotten comfortable, with Jim sitting on Blair’s cot with his back supported by the wall, and his partner leaning against his chest and seated between Jim’s spread legs, Blair began to try and recall everything he could about his dream. Slowly at first, he described his dream from the previous night in order to better explain this most recent one. This time he had had a clearer view of the two men in the cave – which he now recognised as the one they had visited that afternoon. The smaller man with whom he identified somehow, had been badly injured, but didn’t seem to Blair to be overly concerned. The other man, who Blair thought vaguely resembled Jim, was fighting some thing or someone, and it was when he turned to take the smaller man in his arms that Blair saw the Silver Star on his chest. 

“Their clothes were old-fashioned, man,” he murmured thoughtfully. “And that must have been a sheriff’s badge or something like it. The wolf and the jaguar were in the background again; apparently unable to get past that invisible barrier, but the men both turned and looked at me. They smiled, but didn’t say anything. But I felt that they wanted me to do something. Something for them and…and for us, too? But before I could ask them, that face – the one that reminded me of Dawson Quinn – appeared again, and flew towards me. And the bigger man drew his gun and shot it, and it flew apart. 

“And that’s when I woke up. Man, it was so real! And now I’ve seen the cave, I’m sure it’s significant. I need to find out, Jim. I need to know what they were trying to tell me.” 

Resting his chin atop the curly head, Jim thought for a moment before replying. He wanted to comfort Blair, but was still having difficulty overcoming his scepticism. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Chief, but are you sure you’re not channelling something you’ve been reading or studying recently that’s made a big impression on you? I’m not trying to put you down, because I know I’ve been guilty of that in the past, and you’ve had a pretty rough time over the past weeks with no help from me. But you know me well enough by now to realise that I have a very hard time with all the spiritual stuff involved in the whole sentinel phenomenon. All I can say is that I’ll try not to undermine you, even if I don’t really believe in it. It’s enough for me at the moment to know that _you_ believe it, so we’ll go from there, OK?” 

He knew that Blair would have to be disappointed at his half-baked response, but it was the best he could do for the moment. At least he hadn’t laughed outright at his upset partner, or told him to get over himself and suck it up, so it had to be some sort of improvement. And Blair, bless his generous heart, gave him credit for that. 

“Thanks, Jim. For not mocking me. I know it’s hard for you – I understand that, I really do – but I still feel it’s up to me to help these guys, because by helping them, I’m sure I’ll be helping us too. I just need to find out how to go about it. But right now I’m exhausted. Um, do you think you could stay with me tonight? Please?” 

He knew how pitiful that must have sounded, but was more than grateful when Jim replied immediately, “No problem, Chief. I think we’ll both sleep better, even though these cots aren’t really meant for two! But I’m sure we’ll manage.” 

And manage they did, somehow squeezing in with Blair’s back pressed to Jim’s chest, and Jim braced against the wall. With Jim’s arm around his waist, Blair felt safe and warm, and soon dropped off into a mercifully dreamless sleep this time, followed within minutes by his sentinel.  


\-------------------------------  


The following morning, although both men were better rested than either of them expected to be, Blair diffidently asked if Jim would mind if he visited with Joe Running Horse for a while. He wanted to begin his quest to interpret his dreams as soon as possible, and felt sure that the older Native American could give him valuable information. He was more than a little surprised and pleased when Jim agreed without demur, even adding that he would be happy to come along as well. So after a leisurely breakfast, they walked on over to the office building and entered to find Joe Running Horse sitting there comfortably in an old rocking chair. He looked up with a knowing smile when he saw them, apparently unsurprised to see them. 

“Morning, guys. I was expecting you. You need to ask me something, young shaman?” 

Blair blushed at the title, casting a swift glance upward at Jim to see his reaction, grateful that the only sign of irritation was a brief grimace flashing across the patrician features. 

“Er, yes, Joe. If you don’t mind, that is? I…um…I wondered what you could tell us about the canyon at the other side of the lake. It’s…there’s something about it I don’t understand, but it had a strange effect on me yesterday. I can’t really explain it, but I think it’s important?” 

He gazed appealingly at the older man, hoping that he wasn’t making a complete fool of himself in front of his partner, and breathed a sigh of relief when Joe merely nodded calmly. 

“I believe it is important to you. To you both. But I can only help you so far. What I am about to tell you is little enough, since it involves a white man’s legend which it is up to you to discover for yourself. But when you have learned all you can, come back here, and I will help you to understand the rest as we here know it. 

“But be aware that at the end of the day, it is you, young shaman, who must make the connections necessary to fulfil that which has been predicted for you.” 

Eagerly nodding his agreement, Blair sat down on the floor in front of the older man, folding his legs into a comfortable half-lotus position while Jim pulled up a spare chair and sat at his back. 

Watching them carefully, his dark eyes missing nothing, Joe began. “I cannot tell you exactly what occurred in that canyon many years ago, because as I said, it involves a white man’s legend, but my people know that great evil took place there. Bad men attacked those who would bring them to justice, and the outcome was not that which should have occurred. There is a wrong to be righted by those who are up to the task, and only then will the canyon be cleansed of the evil that taints it. Do you believe that you are the chosen ones? Because if you do not work together in this, you will both fail, and the loss will not be yours alone.” 

Blair knew that Jim wasn’t going to be happy with Joe’s pronouncement, and he turned his head to see his friend’s reaction for himself. Sure enough, Jim was scowling darkly, but seemed to be restraining himself from making any adverse comment. Blair reached back and squeezed Jim’s knee, his face reflecting his anxiety, and mutely pleading for patience. After a long moment, Jim nodded briskly and Blair breathed a small sigh of relief, turning back to see Joe studying him with interest. 

“We understand, Joe, and thank you,” he replied. “I promise that I shall do my best to learn of the white man’s legend, and when I do, I shall return. We will _both_ return, and will do what we have to do with your help.” He knew he was being a little presumptuous in speaking for both of them, but he hoped that in this instance Jim wouldn’t hold it against him. It would appear that he had acted correctly when Jim reached forward and squeezed his shoulder in support as Joe smiled calmly, a satisfied expression in his wise eyes. 

“Until then, young shaman, and Watchman!” And without another word, he stood and let himself into the private interior of the building through the door behind him, leaving two very bemused men watching his departing back. 

“Well, that was different!” breathed Blair as he rose to his feet. “Are you really OK with this, Jim? I mean, I had no idea that this could get so complicated. I’m so sorry!” 

“Don’t be, Chief. It’s not your fault that you keep attracting weirdness,” Jim replied with a sardonic grin. “So, what do you want to do? If you’re really worried about this, we can always cut the stay short and go back to Cascade this afternoon. Then you can have tonight and all day Monday to get on with whatever research you need to do. Because I’m thinking that the quicker we get to the bottom of this business, the better it’ll be for the both of us.” 

Blair’s smile was wide and grateful as he beamed up into Jim’s resigned but fond gaze. “Oh, man, thank you, Jim. For being so understanding. I truly appreciate it, man, and I promise I’ll make it up to you – somehow!” 

“Fair enough, kiddo. But before we set off again, I want just a couple more hours’ fishing, OK? Let’s at least try and catch something worthwhile to give to Simon when we get back. I’m thinking we may need to keep him sweet!”  


\-----------------------------  


**Late Monday morning:**  


Blair was almost vibrating with nervous excitement as he drove back to the loft, anxious to reveal everything he had discovered to Jim. It was more than he could have hoped for, and now he just had to believe that he would be able to use the information to fulfil the task Joe Running Horse expected of him. 

The previous evening, after they had arrived back at the loft armed with a cooler containing three large trout for the freezer, Blair had gone online as soon as they had finished unpacking their gear, searching the internet for likely leads. Using the keywords of Cascade lawmen, narrowed down to the first decades of the city’s development, he had quickly pulled up the webpage of Cascade Historical Society, which immediately caught his attention. It was just the sort of group he was looking for, knowing that such people; even as enthusiastic amateurs; frequently gathered and collated obscure legends and related documents long lost to the general public, but jealously guarded in their archives. It was an unpretentious site, with few links, but he noted down the address and contact numbers, intending to call up and arrange a visit first thing in the morning. 

And as luck would have it, the friendly and accommodating person he had spoken to had confirmed that the office was open, and that he would be welcome to come in as soon as he wanted. 

As it turned out, the society’s main archive was located in a small annex of the Cascade City Museum in a section not usually open to the public, but for Blair the curator had made an exception. As soon as he had explained what he was hoping to find, the friendly and knowledgeable elderly lady had known exactly where to look. Pulling out a dusty folder from the drawer of one of the many filing cabinets lining the walls, she opened it on a nearby table and smiled in genuine glee. 

“I’m sure this is what you’re looking for, young man! It’s one of my very favourite stories, even though it’s not a happy ending, sad to say. Not that anyone knows the real outcome, you understand, as it’s all supposition based on residual material evidence. But it’s the sort of legend that should never be forgotten, because it’s so integral to the early development and history of our city. Here, you read it. Take your time!” and with that she had left him alone to read everything he could about the life and times of Sheriff Joe Ellis and his partner, Deputy Jake Sanders. 

And as he read the contemporary theories regarding their final stand in a canyon just two days’ ride from the small town of Cascade, the penny dropped, and he knew exactly why he and Jim had been chosen.  


\----------------------------------  


Back in the loft, Jim studied his partner – well, _guide,_ as he was now inclined to call him – almost bouncing out of his seat with excitement. He couldn’t help but admire the younger man’s enthusiasm, and damned if he wasn’t inclined to feel something of the same himself. He had been prepared to listen to his friend’s proposition, and even intended to offer him his conditional support rather than shoot him down in flames as he had been wont to do in the past, but this time Blair had actually managed to fully engage his attention. 

“See, Jim,” Blair enthused, spreading out the photocopied documents across the coffee table, “From the small amount of information I was able to glean about Joe Ellis and Jake Sanders’ past, I think they just had to be a sentinel and guide pair! There’s no other reason for two such dissimilar men to get together and stay together like that. In the society of the time, simple sexual attraction wouldn’t be enough, I’m sure, and there’s no suggestion anywhere that they were master and servant. And it stands to reason that someone with sentinel senses would be admirably suited to being a Cascade sheriff! And look, Jim! The protagonists in their ‘last stand’, if you will! It could have been us when we confronted Dawson Quinn! But instead of me dying from that gunshot wound, I survived. And you managed to put Quinn away for life. So I’m thinking that we’re supposed to learn something from that, and put it right somehow! Maybe even find out what really happened to them. Please tell me you don’t think I’m completely out of my mind here, Jim!” 

And what could Jim say? He still wanted to deny any such thing, but in the light of his friend’s ardent plea, he would be the worst kind of ass if he kicked Blair’s hard-won self-confidence into touch yet again. Instead, he offered the younger man a rueful grin and said, “OK, Chief. I get what you’re saying. And maybe – just maybe – you might have a point. So, what do you want to do about it? Because I have the feeling that whatever it is, I’m not going to like it!” 

Swallowing hard, Blair took his courage in both hands as he turned to face Jim, knowing that this might be the most important and the most difficult thing he had ever asked of his sentinel. 

“I think I need to go on a spirit walk, Jim. I know you hate the shaman stuff, but I am beginning to believe that maybe I’m not such a loser as I thought. Incacha saw something in me, and apparently Joe Running Horse does too. And these dreams I’ve been having have to mean something, Jim. They _have_ to!” he pleaded urgently, desperately afraid that Jim was going to revert to normal and deny him outright. 

And truth be told, that was what Jim really wanted to do, but the honourable man within prevented him from doing so. He had sworn to listen to Blair and support his wild theories, and that’s what he would do. 

Sighing deeply, he met Blair’s earnest gaze, and found it wasn’t so hard after all. 

“OK, Chief. Say I agree. What do you need me to do, and where do you want to do it? Because I have to say here that I really don’t like the idea. I saw Incacha do several such ‘walks’, and it frightened the life out of me until he came back to his body again. I hate the thought of you doing the same.” 

Fixing Jim with a steady gaze, Blair used his most compelling voice as he replied, his confidence growing along with his conviction that he was doing the right thing. 

“I need you to be with me, Jim. I believe we need to return to the camp like we promised, and ask Joe for his help also. And I need for you to guide me through it, Jim. Call it a role reversal if you like, but I shall need you to help me control my thoughts and visions, because I shall probably have to take some sort of mind-altering drug. Can you do that, Jim? Because without your support, I can’t risk it.” 

Jim paused for the longest moment before he finally nodded slowly. “OK, Chief. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. But I tell you here and now I hate the idea. And if I think something’s going wrong, I’m going to do my best to pull you out of it, you hear?” 

“I hear, Jim,” replied Blair with a huge, warm smile for his so special friend. “And I thank you so much for believing in me.” 

“In that case, Chief, I think I need to call Simon and plead for one more day off. I think tomorrow is as good a time as any to return to the camp, and get this business over with once and for all!”  



	5. Prompt - Deal with the Devil

**Chapter 5: Prompt – Deal with the Devil:**   


**Tuesday morning, driving back to the camp site:**  


Blair stared out of the passenger side window, wound tighter than a watch spring and chewing relentlessly at his nails. He was still convinced that he and Jim were doing the right thing – the _only_ thing in his opinion – in going back so soon, but it didn’t calm his nerves any. Suddenly realising what he was doing, he surreptitiously slid his hands underneath his thighs in order to remove the temptation to gnaw at them any further, only to note that now his knee was bouncing like a jackhammer in compensation. Casting a sidelong glance at Jim, he was mortified to see the frown of irritation between his sentinel’s brows, and at the barely-suppressed sigh of exasperation, he peeked sheepishly over at his friend murmuring contritely, “I’m sorry, Jim. I know I must be irritating the shit out of you, but I can’t help it. I can’t seem to keep still. I’m sorry….” 

Jim grinned ruefully as he shook his head, knowing that he was being far too hard on his young partner. “It’s OK, kiddo. I’m just being a grumpy butt. I do know what you must be feeling, and I admit I want this over and done with as much as you do. It’s just that we have different ways of showing it! Anyhow, we’re nearly there, so one way or the other, we’ll soon find out.” 

Sure enough, they soon hit the dirt road, and Blair repeated his gate-opening and closing routine, except that this time he was too preoccupied to admire the scenery. He was truly grateful that Jim had agreed to back him up in this – whatever it was. And also grateful to Simon for granting them an extra day off even without the bribe of a fresh trout; although the captain had definitely appreciated the gift and accepted with alacrity. He felt that something momentous was about to happen in terms of his relationship with Jim, and he wanted to get on with it sooner rather than later, even if he was scared silly of what he was about to learn. And what he was going to have to do to learn it. 

Both men sighed in relief when the shabby office building came into view, Joe Running Horse sitting relaxed as ever in his rocking chair, this time out on the front deck. 

“Here we go, Chief,” murmured Jim to his anxious passenger. “Are you really sure you want to do this?” He was certain that Blair did, but for his own peace of mind, wanted to hear it just once more from the young man’s own lips. 

Blair sent him a fond smile, well aware of the emotions behind Jim’s question, and loving him for it. “Yes, Jim, I’m sure. Scared silly, as I think you already know, but sure anyway. Let’s do this!” 

Pulling up beside the office, both men climbed down from the truck and walked towards Running Horse, who simply smiled, nodded, and rose to his feet, entering the building in the certainty that his two visitors would be following. He crossed over to the inner door and held it open for Jim and Blair, ushering them through into his private space. Blair couldn’t help but look around him with interest, noting the simple but practical furniture and fittings, brightened up with locally made artefacts, rugs and blankets. 

“So, you are ready to seek the answers to your questions, young shaman?” Joe said, his dark eyes fixed on Blair’s face. The young man’s nervousness was apparent, but also so was his determination, and the older nodded in satisfaction when Blair replied. 

“Yes, Joe. I am. Jim has agreed to help me, and I trust you to show me the way. My heart tells me that this is something I must do for both our sakes, and for the sake of those who went before.” 

Joe nodded, and looked from one to the other, gently sardonic as he murmured, “It is good to see such open-mindedness in the white man. More often than not their scepticism closes their minds to things that are openly acknowledged by our people.” 

Jim grimaced at that, and replied stiffly, saying, “That probably applies to Sandburg more than to me under most circumstances, Running Horse. I’m not usually known for my tolerance. But in this instance I’m prepared to put aside my cynicism, because it means a lot to Blair and I wouldn’t let him do this alone.” 

“It will mean a lot to you also, Watchman!” Joe answered with a knowing smile. “So, let us begin. Make yourselves comfortable on the rugs, and I will prepare what is necessary to open the young shaman’s mind. Don’t worry,” he added with a grin. “It will do him no harm!” 

And if Jim’s pained ‘Yeah, right!’ expression amused him, he kept it to himself, merely smiling secretively as he pulled several small bottles and containers down from his shelves and measured small amounts of various ingredients into a small, earthenware bowl. 

With the potion prepared, he joined them on the rug in the centre of the room, sitting opposite Blair, who was by now looking much calmer on account of Jim’s reassuring presence at his back. Handing over the bowl, Joe intoned, “Drink, young shaman. Open your mind, and seek the truth.” 

Blair took the bowl, and after only the slightest pause, raised it to his lips. _Here goes nothing!_ he thought, and then he drank it down, feeling its warmth spreading through him almost immediately. Within seconds, the room faded away, and he was drifting, drifting through the void, but he wasn’t afraid. A sensation of security surrounded him; a soul-deep certainty that he was protected; knowing without knowing that it was safe to fall. 

And fall he did. Free-floating in a softly comforting nothingness until his eyes were opened to a blue-tinted jungle landscape, and he knew instinctively that this was Jim’s spirit world. And within it he would be made welcome. 

Looking around him eagerly, he took in the view, wishing that he had such a place to turn to. It would be so cool to know that his thoughts had somewhere to go when he most needed solace or understanding. 

“You can have such a thing, Young Wolf; it is yours for the taking if Enqueri wills it!” 

Blair nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice behind him, whipping around to see who it was. And saw a gently smiling Incacha regarding him fondly. 

“Oh, man! You almost scared me shitless!” he snickered in embarrassment, returning the deceased shaman’s amused smile with a sheepish one of his own. “So, is this the spirit plane? And will I find out why I have been singled out to seek it out?” It occurred to him incidentally that either his grasp of Quechua had improved dramatically, or that language was no barrier on the spirit plane. 

“So many questions, Young Wolf,” chuckled Incacha. “Patience, young one, and all will be revealed. Once your sentinel arrives…” 

“Huh?” was all Blair could manage before Jim materialised beside him. But it was a different Jim. This Jim was dressed in the vest and combat pants combo he had been wearing in that iconic cover shot on ‘Life’ magazine. A well-thumbed copy of which Blair kept tucked away in his box of precious mementoes under his bed. 

And this Jim was grinning fondly at him, a quizzical eyebrow raised as he studied Blair in his turn. “Looking good there, Chief,” he murmured appreciatively, making a very puzzled Blair look down at himself. 

“Oh, man! This is so cool!” he enthused, taking in the short leather kilt, sandals and beads of a Chopec shaman. “Does this mean that I really am a shaman after all?” 

“Not quite, Young Wolf. You are close to realising your true potential, as is Enqueri, and that is why you are here. Why you are both here! But in order to achieve that goal, there are things that you must learn. Things that only those such as yourselves can show you. Are you ready?” 

And as both men nodded in assent, Incacha waved his arm, and a new vision appeared. 

Before their eyes a familiar canyon opened out before them, and they were able to witness the gunfight in progress. They watched a gang, spurred on by an equally familiar-looking figure, gradually closing in on the cave above while they took shelter behind the rocky outcrops. 

“Drago Quinn!” whispered Blair almost to himself. “He was the leader of the gang of bank robbers that ambushed Sheriff Ellis and Deputy Sanders. Oh, shit! I’m going to see the whole picture now, aren’t I?” 

“I think that’s the point, Chief,” Jim’s voice murmured in his ear. “Don’t worry. I’m here with you. I won’t let you face it alone.” 

Nodding his thanks, Blair swallowed hard and set himself to watch as the robbers were picked off one by one until only a couple remained. The scene switched to inside the cave, and Blair saw the pale and bloodied figure of Jake Sanders lying behind a pile of fallen rocks while Ellis comforted him. Both he and Jim watched mesmerised as Ellis took out the last of the gang members followed by Quinn himself, and then returned to Sanders’ side. 

“I think I know what happens now,” Blair muttered, in a voice choked by unshed tears. “But I can’t understand why the wolf and the jaguar couldn’t help them!” 

“Because they are not their spirit guides, Young Wolf,” Incacha’s voice spoke from behind him. “They are there for another purpose. Joe Ellis and Jake Sanders know that their time is come, but they also know that there is nothing to fear. Watch!” 

And Blair and Jim watched spellbound as Jake breathed his last, cradled in Joe’s arms. And once it was over, Joe carefully removed his partner’s coat before taking off his own, still bearing his sheriff’s badge. Discarding the clothing behind the rock pile, he bent down and lifted the limp body of his partner in his arms, and placing a tender kiss on the wide brow, he set about carrying his precious burden down from the cave and out of the canyon. 

At the mouth of the canyon, he was met by three tall and solemn braves, undoubtedly from the local tribe, who silently led him to the lakeside where two canoes were waiting. Placing the body in one canoe, Joe climbed in after, while the tribesmen took the other. They rowed to the other side of the lake, and once there, Joe carried Jake’s body to a sheltered spot where another figure awaited them. 

This man was dressed as a shaman, or medicine man, and he greeted Joe with a smile and word of comfort as Joe settled down beside him, Jake’s body held close in his arms as he lay down. 

And as Blair and Jim watched, Joe kissed his partner’s cold face once more, and closed his eyes, and they both knew what he was about to do. 

Sure enough, under the watchful eyes of the shaman, Joe allowed himself to zone, knowing that he could follow his mate without fear of being disturbed. 

“Oh, man, Oh, shit, Jim! I…I didn’t expect that! I…I mean, that’s just so sad!” Blair could barely get his words out, he was so upset, but a hand on his arm distracted him. Incacha’s wise eyes caught and held his as he compelled Blair to listen and heed his words. 

“No, Young Wolf. Not sad. It is never sad when a pair such as they come to the end of their mortal lives. See!” he continued, waving his arm again to reveal the two men standing pressed close together, watching them intently from a short distance away. Both men were smiling gently, the love in their eyes for each other shining through. 

“Now do you see, Young Wolf? Enqueri? For a true partnership of sentinel and guide, or watchman and companion if you will, death is not the end. They knew it, which is why they didn’t fear it. They are two halves of one soul, and will be together for eternity. 

“This could be your future if you can only bring yourselves to embrace it. As a true and committed pair, you will be able to call up the support of your spirit guides. They are waiting for you to claim them,” and he indicated the same wolf and jaguar that Blair had seen in the cave, who were now watching them with undeniable longing in their respective lupine and feline eyes. “Enqueri has seen his spirit guide before, even though he didn’t want to recognise the jaguar for what it is. But if he will accept his role as sentinel of the Great City, and also accept you as his true guide and shaman, there is nothing you cannot achieve together. Now go, and think on what I have said!” 

As Jim and Blair turned as one to respond, he faded from sight, and the blue jungle began to shimmer and disperse. But before it disappeared altogether, they both saw Joe Ellis and Jake Sanders, arms wrapped around each other’s waists, regarding them solemnly for a long moment before both men’s faces broke into friendly and happy grins. Nodding wordlessly in complete accord, they both raised a hand in farewell, and turned to go, disappearing into the last vestiges of blue light. 

Blair came back to the present to find himself pressed against Jim’s chest, his friend’s strong arms wrapped around his torso. “Oh, man! What a ride!” he breathed, raising his hands to squeeze Jim’s forearms. “Are you OK, Jim?” 

Jim’s breath warmed his ear as the older man replied fondly, “Yes, Chief, I’m just fine! It wasn’t me that had to drink that yucky stuff. It’s my dreamscape, kiddo, so I can go there anytime I choose without the gunk.” 

“Well, that just sucks, man!” snipped Blair, although he was grinning as he said it. 

A quiet laugh drew their attention to where Joe Running Horse watched them steadily, plainly unperturbed by Jim’s comment. Blair regarded him thoughtfully for a long moment before addressing him rather diffidently. 

“Thank you, Joe. For helping me – _us_ – see the truth behind Joe and Jake’s story. And thank you for watching over us.” 

Joe nodded graciously. “It is no more than my ancestor did for Ellis and Sanders, Watchman and Shaman. It was his duty to guard their passing as it is my duty to show you the way forward. A pair such as yourselves is a gift to be cherished and honoured by any tribe worthy of your care and protection, even though much of your modern society can no longer appreciate you. But now the way has been made clear for you to complete your bond. You have but to accept it and it will be.” 

Blair thought about that for a while, relishing the warmth of Jim’s hold which the bigger man seemed in no hurry to relinquish. “Ah, there is one other thing I’d like to ask, if it’s OK with you,” he said, hoping that he wasn’t pushing the older man’s patience too far. “You said before that there was great evil in that canyon, and that we had been chosen to cleanse it. Have we succeeded? And how so?” 

Running Horse smiled broadly at his words, plainly pleased to hear them. “Yes, it’s true, young shaman. Ellis and Sanders knew that their time was come, but they knew that you and Jim would complete the task because your spirit animals told them so. That is why they were there – guarding your future against Quinn’s malevolence. My people knew that Drago Quinn had made a pact of evil – a deal with the devil if you will – but although it was not our destiny to fight it, there would be those who could. And because of that, Drago and his successors will never succeed. Joe Ellis took Drago’s life, and you took another Quinn’s freedom. Drago might have cost Sanders his mortal life, and therefore Ellis’ also, but because they are bound together, he could not touch their souls. And many years later you were also able to defeat his legacy and survive it. And the fact that you did so even before you had committed fully to each other tells me that your powers for good are great indeed. The evil has been defeated, and cannot return in that form at least.” 

Blair swallowed hard, humbled by Joe’s words, and feeling unworthy of such praise. However, there was one more thing that he needed to know, and he raised his eyes to Joe’s again. 

“You said that it was your ancestor who had watched over Joe and Jake at the last. Can I ask what happened to them after…after it was over?” 

“You can, Young Wolf,” the older man replied with a knowing and benevolent smile. “The shaman blessed them, and my people buried them with due ceremony and honour. Their mortal remains lie in a place where they will never be disturbed for as long as there are members of my family to guard them,” and with that, he rose gracefully to his feet and held out his hand, indicating the rug on which he had been sitting. 

Blair’s eyes widened as he stared at the floor, shaking his head in astonishment. “Here. They lie here where you can watch over them still!” he breathed. “Man, that is so amazing!” and he raised his head to meet Joe’s gentle gaze, his own eyes filled with tears of wonderment and gratitude. 

“Just so, Young Wolf,” Joe replied, holding out his hand to help Blair to his feet. And as Jim rose from his position on the floor behind him, Blair reached back and took his hand also. The three of them stood for a while, silent but joined in mutual understanding and appreciation until Joe pulled away. 

“I have things to do in the store,” he said matter-of-factly. “Take your time, and leave when you’re ready. I’m sure we will meet again soon.” And with that, he turned away and exited through the door to the shop, leaving two very thoughtful men behind him. 

After a while, Jim gently took Blair’s shoulders and turned the younger man to face him, a questioning look on his face as he regarded his friend carefully. “I’m sorry, Chief,” he began. “Sorry that I refused to accept the inevitable, or see you for the gift you are. But between them, Incacha and Joe Running Horse have opened my eyes and shown me the way, and I would be honoured if you would take that path with me. Be my shaman guide for real.” 

He was rewarded by the brightest smile had had ever seen on his friend’s beautiful face; and yes, he could admit it now. Blair _was_ beautiful, both inside and out. 

“Oh, yes, Jim! I want that too, more than anything. And I’m sorry too. I’ve always been scared of commitment until now. Until I realised that you are so much more to me than a study subject or even my best friend. I want what we can have together,” and he raised his face hopefully to Jim’s. 

The sentinel didn’t let him down; lowering his mouth to Blair’s to sample the lush lips in their first kiss. Simple and sweet, it didn’t matter that Blair was a man and Jim had always considered himself as straight. Blair was Blair. His friend and guide, and the best thing that had ever happened to him. And he tasted divine. 

Lowering his face again, he sampled the flavour and texture of the younger man’s lips, relishing the moan of desire that issued from Blair’s throat. After several minutes’ of mutual exploration, they broke apart with a soft, wet sound. 

“Is that a ‘yes’, then, babe?” Jim murmured. “You will bond with me for real?” 

“You bet, my sentinel,” Blair grinned back. “Just try to stop me!” 

“Never happen, my guide,” Jim replied, a smug look of contentment on his face as he took Blair into his arms again. Their destiny was theirs for the taking, and whatever life threw at them from now on they would face together, knowing that they would be as one for eternity, just like Joe and Jake, and that was comfort indeed.  


**The End**


End file.
